


dear forgiveness

by crownsandbirds



Series: sadist's lullaby [6]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, all the other characters are just mentioned, and a conversation about feelings, betsy can handle her boys nicely, even if they refuse to see it, fox!riko, riko is broken and tired, slow progress, there's a rainy morning and a chocolate cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13619424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: Riko's small and warm and nearly soft, pressed against Kevin's side. The raindrops fall on the umbrella, making a sound that's almost comforting.





	dear forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> "I came to tell you, we’ll swim in the water, we’ll  
> swim like something sparkling underneath  
> the waves."
> 
> \- Richard Siken

According to Betsy, Riko has been making  _ progress,  _ whatever that's supposed to mean. Kevin, for one, has no idea what exactly that's supposed to mean; Riko has always been sociable, high-functioning in most senses of the word, polite and emotionally balanced enough around most people. He can easily make friends if he so wants to, mostly because almost no one is smart enough to notice the manic gleam in his eyes at first glance, and the ones who do notice are usually distracted from that by how pretty and charming he is. He's not like Andrew, who can make anyone with a pulse hate him in the span of seconds and is more than happy to do so - he was raised to be a pleasant, delightful and incredibly successful sports star, and he plays the part perfectly, wears that persona like a second skin. The usual definition of  _ progress _ hardly fits Riko. 

Kevin has been paying close attention to him, like he always is, like he has been doing for forever now, and he  _ supposes _ some things have changed. Riko now attends a few sessions with Betsy alone - he still needs Kevin to take him there, but there are days in which he manages to stay in the office by himself for the entirety of his assigned time, which is heavily impressive in and of itself. He still indulges in his obsession for cooking intricate meals but in two occasions he's actually  _ eaten _ part of them instead of throwing it all out. He makes half-hearted, grumpy attempts to sleep a decent amount of hours, only because his meds make him sleepy, and, now and then, Kevin even manages to convince him to stay in bed with him on weekends until at least 8 am.

It's not the kind of progress other people go through. This is not Nicky slowly being able to talk about his parents or his childhood home without tearing up and having panic attacks, this is not Matt finding himself confident enough not to hide his track marks with long-sleeved shirts. This is a confusing, almost frustratingly unsatisfying bundle of changes that comes with a bone-deep exhaustion that paints the entirety of Riko's existence. Kevin hates seeing him change sometimes, because the feeling he gets is that Riko isn't  _ progressing  _ out of his own will or stability of mind, but because he's so tired, so  _ tired _ , that he doesn't have the strength to stick to his old belief system without collapsing to the floor. 

Even then, Kevin would be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy the feeling of holding him from behind and kissing the top of his head without having to worry about a broken nose or a bruised cheek because Riko's too paranoid to think he deserves anything slightly resembling affection. So, he doesn't say anything out of his own volition, makes sure Riko takes his meds when he's supposed to, and, honestly, takes what he can get and is thankful for every bit of it. He's as thankful for sharp nails digging into the tattoo on his cheekbone as he is for sleepy kisses pressed on his jaw. 

Andrew, in all his drugged-up violent midget glory, says that makes him a masochist coward. Kevin wants to say,  _ I'm not the one lusting over the pretty son of a serial killer, who's being chased by one of the most dangerous criminal families in the country _ , but he doesn't, because he's tired of useless conflict and because that's not even what he really wants to say. The truth of the matter is, he can't explain to anyone  _ how _ Riko feels by his side, how easy it is to love him, how instinctive it is to let him own every single one of his thoughts, how obeying his commands and following him and taking care of him makes the voice inside his head shut up and everything about his own existence lighter. 

He keeps quiet, practices exhaustively, talks to Riko - they talk so much now, after weeks of strained silence, they manage to talk about most things, and it's strange -, avoids making him angry, braces himself for the whiplash when he gets angry anyway, tries to do damage control, takes him back and forth between Fox Tower and Betsy's office, goes to Columbia on Friday nights. Silently, he misses Jean and his strong arms that put him back together when possible and his cutting disdain with both feet on reality, and while he doesn't try to contact him, he always answers his texts and picks up his extremely rare phone calls, and they're as much a relief as anything can be. 

It's a rainy day. When Riko comes out of the office, his pretty lips are pressed together in a thin line, and he looks irritated and tired. There are shadows under his eyes that make him seem even more fragile than usual. He doesn't stop to regard Kevin on his way out of Reddin, and Kevin does what he does best: gets up and follows him. 

As much as he pretends to be indifferent to most things around him and to deem them insignificant, Riko hates the feeling of cold water running down his face and neck, and so he waits for Kevin to catch up with him and open the big black umbrella over both of them before he clings to his arm and pulls him under the rain. 

He's small and warm and nearly soft, pressed against Kevin's side. The raindrops fall on the umbrella, making a sound that's almost comforting. 

"How was it?" Kevin asks, at last.

"Mm." Riko presses closer. "Annoying. She's annoying. Asks too many questions." 

"You know you don't have to answer her. Aaron never does." 

"And you know I hate uncomfortable silences." yes, he does. Riko was raised to be polite and pleasant and all in all, a delight to be around. He hates imperfect social situations. "It doesn't matter." 

Kevin shrugs and lets it be. He doesn't feel particularly inclined to pull answers from Riko after he's already spent an hour being questioned. "And how's your brother?" 

When Riko instinctively shivers in pleasure at the reminder of Ichirou as his older brother, Kevin feels it. "Ichirou is - he's as fine as he can be. I think. He says he feels confident with me as his Butcher, and that his subordinates are terrified of us, so it's even easier for him to order them around."

"So you two have been talking?"

The rain starts to fall more heavily, and Riko wraps his arm around Kevin's waist to get safer under the umbrella and shelter himself from the water. "We have. He has a  _ need _ for genuine human interactions, apparently." 

"Well, I can't imagine being a Yakuza lord is the nicest job in the world. Specially with him being as young as he is."

"He's so  _ soft _ ." Riko shakes his head, and for an instant he looks like an older brother worrying over his younger brother. "Broken. Don't get me wrong, he does his job well, but it’s no wonder he’s been slashing his wrists ever since he learned how to pick up a knife.”

"How is he dealing with-" 

"With Nathan's death?" Riko scoffs. "Pretty fucking badly. Though it doesn't really show, so he gets credits for that."

"What did they even have between them?"

"Who knows. I think something about as healthy as me and you have. Moriyamas have their own personal ways of dealing with their inevitable daddy issues. Apparently, some of us look for actual father figures and fuck them. It happens." 

 

-

 

"What are you making?" Kevin goes over to the stove to peek inside the pan and see what Riko has been carefully stirring for a few minutes now. "It smells nice." 

Riko pushes him away with one hand - he says he can't focus when Kevin is looking at him bake or cook - and keeps stirring with the other. "Ganache." 

"What the hell is that?" 

"Why don't you go and ask Jean? It's  _ french. _ " 

Kevin sighs, steps aside to sit atop the counter. "You can't tell me you're jealous of Jean. He can barely stand my existence."

"He certainly texts you quite a lot for someone who hates you." 

"He feels obliged to check up on us." 

Riko doesn't try to hide his mean, cruel little smirk that's nearly a snarl. "Jean has always had a completely disturbed sense of duty."

"If you know it, why are you jealous?"

"You can't tell me at this point you haven't realized I'm jealous of the sun for shining on you." 

"You haven't answered my first question." He doesn't comment that it's still raining, it's been raining non-stop for almost a week, doesn't comment that not even the sun is committing the heresy of touching Kevin without Riko's permission.

He can see Riko's fingers tightening in irritation around the handle of the spoon before he sighs and answers. "Ganache is basically made by mixing up chopped chocolate with heated cream. I'm making it as icing for the cake I made yesterday." 

"Sounds delicious, actually."

Riko turns off the stove and imperiously nudges Kevin off of the counter so he can grab the pan and slowly spill the ganache on top of the chocolate cake he baked in the middle of an insomniac bout the previous night. "It's not like you're going to eat it, so."

"I'll eat some if you eat some." 

There's a quick beat of silence before Riko narrows his eyes, puts the pan in the sink and moves the cake to the table in the middle of their small kitchen. "Fine, then." he bites the words. "Get the plates. We have to wait for it to cool down, though." 

It's still silent in the Fox Tower; Riko's sessions with Betsy are almost heretically early, even more so now that they were moved to the weekends, and rarely anyone is ever awake when they come back, so they get a few moments in those early rainy mornings to themselves. They eat quietly, Riko doing so very slowly, as if every bite is weighing on his shoulders. 

"She asked me why I liked to cook." Riko mumbles suddenly. He looks exhausted, as he always does after therapy. Kevin wishes he could pick him up in his arms and put him on the bed and watch him fall asleep and _ rest _ .  

"What did you say?"

"I said I didn't particularly like to cook, it was just easy to do and convenient." he licks the chocolate off his fork pensively. "Then she said that cooking isn't easy, even for someone as smart as me, and that she knows for a fact that I have quite a skill for it."

"It's true, but how does she know?"

"The psycho twin told her. Apparently even he needs a parental figure."

"I didn't even know Andrew had ever tasted something of yours."

"I said it was easy, following instructions as closely as possible and making things."

Kevin eyes him patiently and says nothing. It's not always Riko has the energy to talk about his sessions. 

"She asked," Riko takes a deep breath, another bite of his cake. "She asked why I say everything I do is easy, when I'm smart enough to know that's not true. I told her, compared to the Nest, it is easy." the breath he takes now is shuddering, broken. "Then she said - she said not everything has to be hard. Not everything in life has to hurt." 

"It doesn't." Kevin says softly. 

"I know that, in theory. It feels wrong, in real life." he lets his head fall to the table, pillowed by one of his arms - with his other hand, he reaches for Kevin, who squeezes his fingers with some degree of affection and mostly reassurance. "But - not everything hurts now, you know. Being in this fucking team is awful, yes, some days I feel like such a failure I want to kill myself. But being with you feels nice." the table is narrow enough he gets to straighten up and press an absent-minded kiss to the scars on the back of Kevin's hand. "Cooking and eating cake, and sleeping in, and knowing Jean is taking care of the Ravens - it feels so deranged and wrong but sometimes it feels so easy too."

He gives a self-conscious little laugh. "God, I'm not making any sense. I'm so sleepy."

Kevin brings both their plates to the sink, makes a mental note to clean them later so Riko won't bother in hiding his tracks, and goes to stand behind the other's chair, ever the dutiful knight to his king. "Let's get to bed, then." he beckons, placing a hand on Riko's shoulder. 

Riko looks up at him, his big dark eyes shadowed by the deep, sickly purple under, and it's just so easy to listen to his silent plea and pick him up in his arms. His weight is familiar, as is the warmth of his breath against Kevin's neck, and the way his little fingers grasp at his shirt as if he's afraid of being dropped.

It's easy for them to lay down on  _ their _ bed and not put any alarms, to fall asleep and cling to each other like children who had to grow up too fast. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hate how this came out so much it physically pains me but i wanted to get rid of it so here it goes   
> i havent slept properly in weeks it's 2:30 am and idek what im doing anymore fuck my insomniac ass  
> i think the reason why i end all of these fics with them falling asleep is bc my biggest dream is to fall asleep and i envy them a lot for that  
> anyway i love my boys my best coping mechanism i'll shut up now im not making any sense


End file.
